Snowy sunset

EDIT: My husband just informed me that these pictures are of our sunRISE not sunset. Me: "Are you sure?" Him: Yeah, the sun doesn't set in the east. Me: Whatever, jerk. Just kidding. But he is totally right, I took these pictures around 7am. I am an idiot. The pictures are still nice though.

I forgot I had these neat pictures on my camera to share with you.  The first snow of winter dusted our neighborhood last Tuesday, and I captured this beautiful pink, orange, and purple sunset behind the white rooftops.

It would look much prettier without that giant lamppost mucking it up right in the middle. 

So here is a close-up. You can click on the photos to enlarge them and see how bright the colors are. 

Hm. Sorry for the lame excuse of a post today. I need to buckle down and get to work though, so this is what you get on Day 29. 

Your park information specialist

Here is another tale of excitement and intrigue from Chicago, although rather than fascinating or thrilling, this one is downright funny. Or at least it is to me. 

The piece of conceptual art pictured above is official called Cloud Gate, but we referred affectionately to it as "The Bean" and I'm certain we're not the only ones.  As we approached the giant sculpture in Millennium Park a woman appeared next to us, seemingly from thin air. I believe she may have been crouching in the bushes. Anyway, as she bent down to extinguish her cigarette on the sidewalk beside her, the woman introduced herself:  "Hello ladies, I'm LaFawnduh*, your park information specialist." She explained how she could answer any questions we had about the park or Cloud Gate, and offered to take our pictures together.  Rachel and I knew precisely where this was going, but my darling, innocent mother jumped on the opportunity to have a photographer without hesitation. 

LaFawnduh confidently led us over to the far side of The Bean, where she all but pushed a group of girls taking their own pictures there out of the way by explaining that she was the park information specialist and would be happy to take their pictures after she was finished with ours. The whole time, I felt uneasy about the situation, and you can see it on Rachel's and my expressions in all our photos. 

And the instinct was not unfounded. After returning the cameras, LaFawnduh launched monotonously into her memorized spiel about representing Rainbow House, a shelter for abused women and children or something and asked for a donation.  Her speech sounded fake; it reminded me of a teenager forced to sell wreaths door-to-door, where their eyes wander about the ceiling instead of looking at you....in fact, she did a perfect impression of this guy from Office Space (one of the best movies EVER). I noticed that the lanyard around her neck held a name badge on which she'd written her own name in Sharpie, and I could just make out the schedule of events printed on the back, with dates listed in April 2010. A lot of Conventions are held in Chicago; it would be pretty easy to come across a discarded lanyard like this and turn it into an official "park information specialist" accessory. I rolled my eyes when she couldn't see. 

My mom gave LaFawnduh five dollars, which we all agreed was fair, since in spite of the odd situation, she cleared the area and took some great pictures that we would not have been able to capture without her.  It only took her 5-10 minutes, so that's a pretty fair wage, too. But rather than thank us graciously, LaFawnduh took the bill, then looked expectantly between the other three of us and asked in an incredulous tone, "And...this will be from all of you?" When we confirmed and thanked her again, she put the money in the pocket of her hoodie, slung her backpack over one shoulder and walked away saying "Have a nice day" over her shoulder. I laughed. 

Here is LaFawnduh "helping" another group of unsuspecting tourists. 

My problem now is that I looked it up. Rainbow House is a real non-profit agency in Chicago dedicated to supporting victims of domestic violence. Was LaFawnduh truly raising funds to support their efforts, or just using the name of a real organization to cultivate genuine sympathy for her endeavor? I will never know. It still seems sneaky to claim to be a park information specialist on one hand, and ask for donations afterward on the other hand. I would prefer a more direct approach: tell us up front that you volunteer in the park on behalf of Rainbow House, and would gladly take our pictures if we would consider a small donation to support the cause. And then have some official paperwork, a nametag, etc. to help us believe that your operation is legitimate. And whether or not you are honestly fundraising or just trying to make some cash for yourself, be grateful for every dollar you get. 

A great picture of my mom and Cloud Gate reflecting Chicago's skyline.

*I don't actually remember our "park information specialist's" name, so I borrowed this one from  Kip's girlfriend.

Skydeck Ledge

Up on the 103rd story of the Willis Tower (formerly Sears Tower) in Chicago, there is an attraction called the Skydeck Ledge. Instead of merely taking in the vista through large windowpanes, a visitors can walk out into a glass cubicle and be surrounded by the view in all directions--including straight down. 

There is an admission fee to ride the elevator up to the observation floor, and once there, we were free to roam, go in and out of the boxes freely, and take as many photographs as we wished! I liked this format much better than waiting in line for a single opportunity to stand in The Ledge. 

Here is a glimpse of the glass box from the side--a photo of my cousin Rachel taken from inside the other box. 

My mother displayed a sampling of our Chicago pictures at Curves (because we attended Curves Convention there after this girls' trip), and so many women have remarked to me that they would never walk onto that glass. You couldn't pay them enough to do it, and other such dramatic refusals. 

Looking down (my aunt's shoes here) did offer a bit of a thrill. My stomach did a few little excited flips, and even looking at the pictures makes my feet tingle (does this happen to anyone else?)  But I wouldn't say it was terrifying, or even scary. There is a difference between a fear of heights and a fear of falling, in case you don't know. It does not bother me to be high above ground, but I am terrified of falling. Amusement park rides involving sudden or steep drops, bungee jumping, skydiving, these activities which involve or mimic freefalling are of absolutely no interest to me, even if they are only a few stories above ground. 

Shortly before we left for Chicago, my parents happened to catch a "How it's Made" program on TV describing the engineering behind the Skydeck. I'm sure that was fascinating, and possibly helped my mom take the plunge and walk out into the sky. 

This is my absolute favorite picture from this part of our trip. My mom was obviously nervous about stepping out there--I think she had planned to be the contented photographer from inside on solid ground.  But her expression here perfectly captures the childlike joy resulting from such a venture out of the Comfort Zone.  She might be gripping my wrist, but her laugh is so genuine. This picture is precious to me because of that. 

We had a lot of fun experimenting with different ways to photograph the scene to maximize the effect of the context.  It was fairly crowded up there, and I thought it was neat how polite everybody was about taking turns in the box and offering to photograph one another. 

We arrived at dusk, and stayed up there goofing around and taking pictures until after the sun had set. It was a perfect time to go, since we got photos of daylight as well as the beautiful city lights. Both of these pictures are a view to the northeast toward the John Hancock Tower (the black on with angled sides near the back) and Lake Michigan. 

Allow me a moment of self-indulgence to include this picture, just because it's pretty and I look good.  

Rachel and me posing enthusiastically with an external image of the Willis Tower. The Ledge was one of the most interesting and exciting parts of our trip; I'm really glad that we did it. 

My love's birthday

Gary turns 33 years old today. I've planned a whole day of birthday fun, but it's a surprise, so I can't let you in on it yet. Two years ago I shared 31 Random Things I Like About My Husband. I read those over this morning and it made me feel very happy to be reminded of what a wonderful man I married.

Several months ago I found myself seeking this kind of reminder, and I turned to our engagement photography session. The pictures evoked the familiar, yet oft neglected emotions of joyous love.  For your birthday, Sweetheart, I hope you enjoy these pictures and the memories you find accompanying them.

I love you, Gary. Happy birthday. 

Flashback Friday: Alaska

We've done the proposal, the bachelorette party, some wedding photos and reflections, so now on to the honeymoon!

I haven't mentioned much about our wedding theme: Winter in July. You may have noticed some elements of it in the pictures, but it actually holds quite a bit of significance.  To add another layer, we chose to take the Alaska Inside Passage cruise for our honeymoon. Gary is not a lover of tropical destinations, but we're both wild about outdoor adventures, so this was a great choice. Here are some random memories and experiences from our trip.

1-Dinner guests
On this Holland America cruise, we were assigned a dinner time, and a dinner table in the main restaurant. On the first night, when we were guided to our table set for six, I was slightly disappointed.  Why would they seat the honeymooning couple (yes, they were aware) with a group of strangers?

As it turned out, our dinners with these two Texas Ranch couples were a highlight of the whole vacation. They were a lot of fun, and let's face it: no matter how much you love your spouse, when you have 7 days straight to spend together, occasionally enjoying the added company of others is welcome.

2-Seasick
I used to scoff at people who feared getting seasick on a cruise--I mean those ships are so huge compared to waves, right? Our first day of sailing was spent in the open Pacific Ocean along the western coast of Canada, before reaching the calm Inside Passage. I could not believe the tempestuous rocking and rolling we experienced that day and the first night. I went to one of the sundry shops and purchased some Bonine tablets for motion sickness. They cost $6.99, which I know because I just looked at the box that is still hanging out in my medicine cabinet since I only needed them that one day.  Later that same day I told someone--probably one of our new rancher friends at the dinner table--about picking those up.  I was then swiftly informed that those tablets are available at the concierge desk for free. FREE. This brings up two pertinent questions: 1) Why do they even stock them in the store then? 2) Why didn't the cashier tell me that I could get them for free by stumbling a few more feet down the hall?  I remember distinctly waking up in the middle of the night feeling as though I were riding inside a front loading washing machine.

3-Once in a lifetime opportunity, missed
We saw many beautiful glaciers on our cruise and learned a great deal about them too. Some lucky people get to witness glacial calving, where huge pieces of the ice break off into the water. Gary was one of those people, but due to a poorly-timed restroom break, I was not. Thankfully, he knows how to use a camera.

Can you see the big chunk breaking off?

Kersplash!

4-Deceiving distance

I found it fascinating to comprehend that Johns Hopkins Glacier is about 8 miles from our cruise ship as pictured below. Perspective is strange.

5-Soaring

I couldn't be more pleased with each of our choices of excursions in port. In Juneau, after riding the Mt. Roberts Tramway up a mountain and taking a short hike, we boarded a float plane for a bird's eye view of some amazing scenery, including glacial formations.

I had no idea glaciers were so dirty. The ice at the forefront originated from snow that fell in the mountains 75 to 200 years ago.

This looks like meringue.

You must believe me on this one: all three of the colors around the trees in the above photograph are water. So close to one another, and yet all so different.

By the way, did you know that Juneau can only be accessed by plane or boat? I didn't know that before we went there. Although debate surrounds the current project to build a highway connecting Juneau to the Alaskan road system.

6-Bear pee delight

The float plane delivered us to historic Taku Lodge for an amazing Alaskan salmon feast. After dinner we had the distinct pleasure of witnessing a black bear climb atop the grill which had prepared our feast, lick it clean, and pee all over it.

Yum.

7-Bike, hike, kayak

A great way to get off the beaten path and experience some natural parts of Sitka that the less adventurous tourists won't see.

Kayaking from Ketchikan, we were lucky to spot a few bald eagles catching prey on the rocky shore.

 

This trip truly was incredible. Gary and I agreed, however, that one day we must tour Alaska in our own vehicle so that we can see more and take everything in at our own pace--as opposed to that of the sailing schedule.  I would certainly recommend an Alaskan cruise as well, though. It's a great way to see a lot in a short amount of time.

Flashback Friday: Perfectly imperfect wedding

It's a good thing that throughout my wedding day I was in a state of bliss.  I believed the entire experience was a bride's dream come true: the perfect wedding.

In the days and weeks and years that have passed since Gary and I were married on July 15, 2005, I have periodically contemplated an array of minor regrets. I wonder if this is a common post-bridal-bliss phenomenon. It's probably a natural thought process following any once-in-a-lifetime type of event (even couples who eventually divorce presumably view their wedding day in those terms, right?).  Most brides get only one dress. One cake. One ring. One suite of bridesmaid dresses. One chance to make the perfect choices and to execute each one perfectly.

So when that one day you've laboriously planned for over many exciting months is suddenly over, is it common for the analysis to begin, and little disappointments that weren't there on the Big Day to settle? Especially if a gal were to keep her nose in bridal magazines or be forced to attend wedding after wedding for friends and family members--finding new and better options, seeing fresh ideas and styles as your own choices are left in an era behind, and being reminded of how things could have been done--could potentially exacerbate all this nuptial mourning nonsense.

What I've described does not reflect my own experience to any disturbing degree.  But I have spoken to married women who make me wonder about the universality of longing to re-do at least certain aspects of such a treasured, momentous occasion as our own wedding.  If nothing else, the photos I've seen from early nineties' weddings might be enough to confirm the suspicion.

My nearly-perfect wedding began for me the night before. After Gary and I hosted our immediate family members at a dinner celebration at the restaurant where we met when both employed there, I drove with my mother and my only sister to the bed and breakfast in the foothills of Mt. Hood where I would be married.  This girls' night together chatting and giggling and squeezing together into a huge king bed was the perfect conclusion for my un-married life. The next morning we were elegantly served the most delicious German Pancakes (a first for me) topped with raspberries picked fresh from the garden outside our log cabin. YUM.

We woke up to this day:

Yeah, that's where I got married. NO regrets there! Which was a close call, because we overcame distinct opposition to the idea of requesting that guests travel over an hour from Portland to attend.  I am so glad we held strong to our conviction on this decision, because this venue is one of the most memorable and special aspects of our wedding, and the people who made the effort to attend are the ones who matter most.

Also perfect: my wedding dress.

I had no intentions of selecting a strapless gown; it isn't the most flattering style on my broad shoulders.  This dress really didn't fit the vague idea I was concocting of the perfect dress, but when I tried it on, it literally became the embodiment of my perfect dress. I love the lace-up back. I love the intricate beading and silver-threaded leaf design. I love the organza overlay. It made me feel so beautiful.

We were very pleased with our photographer--actually we got two for the price of one because they were instructing a new guy on the team.  So there were two cameras shooting most of the time, which is why we also got a few precious shots of our actual photographer:

Brian took our engagement photos in NE Portland too, and he was super easy to work with, really fun, and took excellent photos.

The last piece of my wedding puzzle that I've remained especially happy about is serenading my new husband.

My very talented mother accompanied me singing "The Nearness of You" by Norah Jones. I'll never forget that my older brother Bryan told me he had a hard time determining whether I was actually singing or lip-syncing to a professional recording, and also that it isn't right for his sister to sing "like that."  It's a fairly sultry song.

Even these points of near-perfection hit their snags.  The weather was beautiful, but in Columbia River Gorge style, turned windy.  My dress didn't fit quite as well after 8 hours, so the evening photos feature a hefty portion of armpit fat spilling over the top.  That might be the absolute worst part, but just in case I'll go ahead and describe a few more things I've secretly wished could have been different.  I hope it is clear that these are minor blemishes to an otherwise joyful celebration of love.

It's a fact that disappointment always results from unmet expectations. I loved every bit of my wedding while I was experiencing it, but revisiting pictures and memories offers the unfortunate perspective to unwittingly compare reality to the fantasy I thought I was living.

My hair ended up far too perfectly curled, when what I wanted was the loose, messy look from this magazine ad:

I actually love our unique cake, and knew we wouldn't get exactly the same look we fell in love with in a magazine.  It was just an inspiration photo, after all.  Hopefully not tragic enough to be worthy of submission to the glorious cakewrecks.com, but kind of fun to see the departure.

We planned a butterfly release for the grand finale of our ceremony, only it was more comical than grand, since the butterflies struggled to fly away. It was more of a butterfly "drop."  You can see a few insects fluttering about, plenty on the ground, and Gary trying to shake the rest out of the box.

We visited Mt. Hood Bed and Breakfast on our 2nd anniversary, and the owners told us that the Monarchs and Painted Ladies enjoying their flowers were the spawn of our wedding release. They claimed to enjoy the  beautiful mark we left behind.

So far I've listed the petty little shortfalls of expectation, unimportant in the grand scheme of a beautiful wedding.  But not all of my regrets are so trivial.  For example, like probably any number of newlyweds, I wish we had visited more with our guests throughout the evening.  But that just comes with the territory I think, and considering we didn't have a reception line, I guess it's pretty good that I at least greeted just about everybody there.

We ended up having to arrange for an alternate officiant with very little notice. Originally a dear friend of mine was to officiate the ceremony, but with less than two weeks to spare, she abandoned us.  While each detail of our wedding and reception were carefully orchestrated, the all-important individual who would do the honors of solemnizing our union suddenly became a matter subject to availability rather than preference.  The woman we found (with the unfailing assistance of our amazing wedding coordinator) was fine, but didn't necessarily exemplify our ultimate match.  Also, she lost her place in her cue cards once, resulting in an awkward few moments when she repeated herself and then struggled to regain composure and continue from the right spot.  We did have two beautiful readings offered by Angie, Gary's best friend from high school, and my sister, Diana.  We both got a little choked up reading our wedding vows, and our huskies presented the wedding rings, led up the aisle by their breeder, with whom we had become good friends.

It might sound a little silly, but if I was offered a chance to change only one thing about my wedding day, after seriously considering having someone tell me my armpit fat was spilling, I would probably ultimately decide to go back and make sure my mother watched our first dance. I don't know where she was, but somehow my mom missed that whole performance. And I say 'performance' because Gary and I took lessons and had an entire dance choreographed to Michael Buble's "Moondance." Yes, I know that's really cheesy, but we had a lot of fun at our lessons. Here is the victory pose after we pulled it off:

So maybe my wedding wasn't perfect.  But the entire day I thought that it was.  That's what being in love feels like.